Carbonarish

Dear Joanne, 

I'm so excited for you. You are doing so much! All those fellowships, all the interviews. You are amazing. I'm so glad that we're friends and someday when you're famous, I'm going to be like that mom in Joy Luck Club with her daughter on the cover of Time Magazine who carries the magazine everywhere while she tows her daughter around. Count on it. Except it will probably me and your mom, hand in hand, magazines to our chest, staring the rest of the world down.

I went 13 miles yesterday! It took forever. I walked some, jogged some, ran some, clawed some, but I more than doubled my benchmark distance of 10K (6.2 miles). I'm doing this in preparation for a future half marathon and marathon that I have yet to sign up for but WILL HAPPEN because I told myself once that I could never run a marathon.

This year, I'm all about proving myself wrong. 

All my plans fell through on Friday, so I got out of bed (at noon) and managed to go from my house in the Sunset, up through the city, across the Golden Gate Bridge and back. This is amazing, by the way. More than 13 miles. The elevation was probably immense. I took a detour down a cliff trail to stand by the ocean, because I wanted to, then climbed back up the trail to the Golden Gate Bridge, armed with only a bottle of water and some Sultana biscuits.

It's not hard core compared to experienced runners, but consider the fact that I started in January. Consider that I work a full time job. That I sing, I research, I write, I volunteer, I have a social life.

Now consider that I almost didn't go. Consider that I've trained for this. Consider that I had unlimited time, water, food. Consider 13 miles as not being so much. Yet, starting the moment I woke up, there was a voice in my head telling me I couldn't do it. As I filled my water bottle and added two umeboshi plums (for electrolytes!), I couldn't do it. As I threw a package of Sultana biscuits into my Flipbelt, I couldn't do it. As I exited Land's End park onto Camino del Mar, up into the Presidio, are you kidding me, turn around, this is stupid.

That voice is always with me. "I feel terrible. I won't go to the gym today," I say to myself as I throw my gym bag over my shoulder. " I guess I won't run today, its raining," I say as I lace my running shoes and throw on a jacket. I argue with myself until I realize I'm at the gym or on the trail, going through my usual workout. "Well, since I'm here, I guess I can do an extra set with higher weights."  Or on days when I run, "Okay, maybe just two miles," turns into "I've already gone this far, might as well keep going."

I bet you never knew this about me. Most people don't. Imagine waking up next to me and I'm talking myself out of my day. You'd be like, "WHO IS THIS PERSON, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH SHELLY?!" I've heard it before. 

I know that I am not that voice. I know that it doesn't speak the truth. At best, I ignore it. At worst, I exist beneath it, on autopilot, just accomplishing the things I need to do without interrupting it. I feel the day out in a semi-blind state, relying on the compass of my heart, on its generosity and passion while I lean on my intelligence, navigating under a thick fog of doubt. 

I prove that voice wrong constantly, but it doesn't go away. I imagine what life would be like without it. I imagine what it would be like to wake up every single morning with relish and really bite into my day, ready to run, ready to go full tilt, 16 hours doing exactly what I love. I imagine (incorrectly) that this will be me when I am able to do what I am most passionate about all the time.

This is my point: We all think there's a green grass future somewhere, a place where we'll be happy and feel loved and our lives will be perfect. It's just around the corner--if only we can work harder, be better, run faster, be stronger. It's a someday that will never come until it's too late, we look back and we see it, but we couldn't enjoy it while it was happening. Self doubt does that. It keeps us from enjoying.

We must embrace every day the best way we can, doubt and all. Every day is the perfect day. 

I will never be fully rid of this damn negative voice. I'm learning to have compassion for it. To coo softly at it and acknowledge its presence and its fears while I place it into a small, soft box, and let it sit, warm and comfortable so that I can get shit done.

I have to sometimes remember to remind myself that I am not what that voice says. I am strong. I am athletic. I am competent. I am intelligent. I have a big heart. I am love-lucky (I see love everywhere). I am generous. People call me when they're in need of encouragement or support because I know how to give those things. I am lovely. I get things done (if at my own pace). I think outside the box. I work hard. I inspire. 

And baby, I can cook.

Do you have a love list, Joanne? Make one! Make one because you deserve to love yourself out loud and in public.  

Once again, I realize how the previous may be misconstrued. I apologize for nothing.

Vegetarian Fussili Carbonara

Carbonarish, because carbonara is made with spaghetti and bacon, two things I don't care to keep on hand. I was inspired by the recipe in Relish and inspired to fix it because you're right--it was too watery. 

I solved this by not using spaghetti. Fusilli absorbs the sauce better than spaghetti. I also add the hot mushroom mixture slowly into the egg mixture, slowly tempering the egg, the way you'd do with a dessert where you don't want to curdle the egg or the cream with the heat of the other ingredients.

Ingredients: 

1 cup Fusilli

1 cup Shiitake mushrooms, stems removed and roughly chopped (or any mushroom, the stronger-tasting the better)

1 tablespoon of butter (I used margarine)

1/4 cup onion, diced

2 cloves of garlic, minced

1 tsp cooking wine (I used chinese rice wine because that's what I have and it's delicious)

1 egg

1/2 cup finely grated Pecorino Romano (or any cheese, grated. I'm not above using cheese sticks. Not the best. But in a pinch? Not bad.)

Chopped parsley, as you like. If you like. This is optional.

Salt and pepper

Ideally this recipe wouldn't take two pans and a bowl, but ideally I'd have a chef and he'd prepare it on a yacht while I sipped sinfully expensive scotch whiskey.

1. Fill a pot with water and set it to boil, as one would in order to cook pasta. 

2. Saute mushrooms in a dry pan  on medium heat. Don't crowd the pan. At first. Don't crowd the pan, take a photo, then throw all the rest of the mushrooms into the pan because you don't have time to cook stupid mushrooms in stupid batches. Understand they won't be as good. Accept it. Move on.

3. Crack an egg in a separate bowl. Add the grated cheese. Whisk it all together. Add pepper, because you like the smell of pepper.

4. Is the water boiling? When it does, salt it.  Add the pasta. Cook for however long it needs. Multi-task. If you can't, cook the pasta after you do the next two steps. The egg mixture can wait. The pasta cannot.  

5. Salt the mushrooms. Add the butter, onion, and garlic. When all that browns, add the alcohol, let it cook off for a few seconds.

6. Take the mushroom mixture off the heat. Add a small amount into the egg mixture, whisk it up so the egg doesn't curdle. Keep adding, spoonful by spoonful, whisking the egg mixture really well inbeween each addition until it's all added. Keep whisking for a bit, until it looks creamy. I add the parsley now and keep mixing, because I happen to like parsley, so I used like 3/4 cup of it chopped and it's kind of woody, so it needs the tiny extra heat to wilt a little more than if I'd added it to the dish at the end.

7. Add the pasta a little at a time into the egg mixture, mixing fully. Reserve some of the pasta water to add to the sauce if it's too dry. Don't add too much. This gets watery very quickly. Add more pepper or salt, to taste. 

Steal a few bites from the kitchen counter, but then enjoy while sitting at a table as you watch My Fair Lady.

PRO TIP: EGGS AND CHEESE ARE NO LAUGHING MATTER. WASH EVERYTHING ASAP OR YOU'LL NEVER GET THE EGG AND CHEESE OFF.

Have you written your love list? Post it someplace where you can see it. If you're embarrassed with the plainness of words, use photos, paints, music. Be creative. Let it be something you look at every day and are proud of. No one should let doubt be their primary voice.

And thank you, Joanne, for being the best friend in the world. You and Graham, spending an hour at Grand Central just to talk to me on the phone? Who does that?! You do. (When you say, "We love you," referring to you and Graham, even without him there, my heart grows three sizes.) You guys are the best. 

YES, ELIZA, YOU TELL HIGGINS.

"I want a little kindness.  I know I'm a common ignorant girl, and you a book-learned gentleman, but I'm not dirt under your feet.  What I done--what I did--was not for the dresses and the taxis.  I did it because we were pleasant together and I come--came--to care for you.  Not to want you to make love to me, and not forgetting the difference between us, but more friendly-like."

Ahem.

Yes, I'm still watching My Fair Lady. And yes, I may know that monologue by heart. And I may have used it for an audition or five.

I also crazy love Rex Harrison in the Ghost and Mrs. Muir. The ghost of a salty sea captain who reads Keats? Where do I sign up?  "Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam/ Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn." SWOON.

D: And since we are to be collaborators, you can call me Daniel.

L: That's very good of you.

D: And I shall call you... Lucia.

L: My name is Lucy.

D: It doesn't do you justice, my dear. Women named Lucy are always being imposed upon. But Lucia, now there's a name for an amazon. For a queen.

**Dies**

Love you! *fairy wand inspiration now you can conquer the world!*

Shelly

Braaains

Dear Joanne,

Thank you for your photos of spring! Congratulations on finishing your classes! And for the fellowship and the teaching job that will come.

I am exhausted.

EXHAUSTED! I demand belly rubs!

I keep thinking that sleep is an optional thing, that it is something that I can contort to fit into my schedule. If I need an extra hour to edit something, or if need to get up at dawn because I don't have time in the evening to run, I will cut into that extra hour of sleep.

I figure I could choose sleep. I could choose not to edit something or not to contact someone or not go running or not to do all the other things I do with my time. There are years of my life where sleep was the greatest luxury I could afford and I relished in its excess. I'm too old for that shit and my damned self discipline won't let me squander the possibility that these self-imposed exercises are the building blocks to a future where I have a client list and write for pay and sing for pay and run marathons and NEVER SLEEP.

When I decide not to succumb to nature, I think of you and your work ethic. You work so hard. You are my hero. I want to be just like you. But like me. But, like, I'd like to have your bosoms. On  my body. That would be ideal. Let your mind wander where it will, I apologize for nothing.

I digress.

My music WIP board. There's a whole another wall covered in other WIPs.

When I am exhausted I like to eat fruits and veggies. Heavy meals from a restaurant would just weigh me down and make the burden of sleep greater, plus then I'd have to take the time to place an order, wait for it, pick it up. Not. Fast. Enough. Fruits and veggies are fast.

I also think vegetables and fruit are indulgent. They can be expensive, especially considering the smallness of the caloric energy you obtain from them. They have such a short shelf life that if you buy them you must eat them within a few days. I also believe that no chocolate will ever taste as rich and complex as the heaviest pear in a bushel.

I am exhausted and my breakfast is a cup of coffee and a pear. My lunch is strawberries and cheese. Dinner is a catered meal for a meeting where I will probably just eat like 12 rolls and some chicken and a salad, if it looks good, plus all the candy and cookies I can get my hands on before I get a sugar headache. Remember this when you perceive me as a model of health.

Raw Zucchini Salad

Ingredients:

Zucchini*. Smaller ones are better and more flavorful, but whatever, eat what's around.

Garlic. I use the frustratingly small cloves in the middle of a head of garlic. So, like 1/3 of a normal-sized clove for a 7-inch zucchini? This is very much to-taste.

 Olive oil

Salt

Pepper

Break the zucchini into chunks with your dysfunctional vegetable peeler. Switch to peeling delicate strips when your roommate hands you a functional vegetable peeler.

Place zucchini onto the surface where you will eat it*. Or in a bowl, where you can assemble the salad and then put it onto a plate. I sometimes eat straight from the cutting board, but I hear most people enjoy using plates for their food. Quel civilite! You'll notice in the photo that I opted for a plate this time. I also take my whiskey pinky-up.

Chop the ridiculously small piece of garlic into as small pieces as you can get it. Don't use too much! You can always add more if you want more raw garlic flavor. Mix the garlic bits in with the zucchini strips.

Salt and pepper the mess you've created, then sprinkle (douse) with as good olive oil as you have in your pantry. Toss everything together, ostensibly with utensils, but I won't judge you if you use your garlicky monster hands.

Wash your hands before you eat straight from the cutting board, you savage.

Notes:
*Asparagus is a delicious replacement for zucchini!

*I would never eat a zucchini again as long as I lived if I had a bakery near me as good as Silver Moon.


Miss you terribly! I sent you a postcard from the Legion of Honor. I've always loved postcards, but I have waaay too many, so I decided to make it a thing and start sending them to my best friends for those times when I'm happy and I want to share that happiness.  Check your mail. Send my love to Graham!

Love you!

Shelly

MEGA WINTER IS OVER! + a recipe for Chicken Marsala with Shiitake Mushrooms

Dear Shelly,

You just missed spring in NYC by a few weeks! Little bursts of color are popping up - orchids, daffodils and the trees getting greener, lusher, leafier. There's all this extra life in parks and crevices transforming the way the city smells and feels and my stressed-out mood. Helps that my grad school classes are D-O-N-E! Even the fat little starlings are out in full force. I spent this weekend in Bedstuy, with Graham, and even the potholes in the sidewalk felt like they belonged on an inspirational poster, with their teensy grass sprouts stubbornly growing in potholes with cigarette butts and such.

Remember that night we went to eat Artichoke Pizza and we found that tree with fragrant white buds in front of that old church? I still haven't figured out what those flowers are, but I'm not sure I want to. I just want them to stay magical.

Next time you come visit we will visit Jefferson Market. It's a tiny park in Greenwich Village, with a puddle-sized pond and a few benches, built on the site of a former womens' prison (active in the 1970s). Very calm but just full of flowers. They give out tulip buds por gratis on Sundays too. http://www.yelp.com/biz/jefferson-market-garden-new-york

Look at these blooms! And send me pictures of the Golden Gate Park deer! Ah, California. I miss your lack of mega winters, tornados, and other weather disasters.

I attempted Lucy Knisley's spaghetti carbonara recipe, but the batch came out too saucy for my liking, so will save that for next blog. Instead, here's chicken marsala with shiitake mushrooms.

Ta-da! (A big thank you to Graham for the photo.)

Chicken Marsala is such a classy dinner when you have no time (which is always). The rich fancy-schmancy Marsala wine makes it taste like a special occasion dish but preparation is dead easy. Plus, I only paid about $4.99 for the wine at marketeer Joe's and found fresh Shiitake mushrooms there - these are much more flavorful than button or brown mushrooms if you can get them. Otherwise just go with what's fresh.

The key to good chicken is to keep an eye on the tenderness of the meat. (We all know that tough chicken breast =  THE WORST.)

Serve with mashed potatoes (yum), buttered pasta or bread.

Chicken Marsala with Shiitake Mushrooms 
Makes two hungry-person portions

3 skinless boneless chicken breasts
Salt, pepper and herbs to rub over the chicken (we suggest oregano and rosemary)
3 tablespoons of butter or olive oil
3-4 cloves of garlic (about half a bulb), minced
Healthy splashes of Marsala wine
     - approx. two-thirds of a cup, or a full cup for a saucy dish
1 cup of water

 Optional:
Approx. 1 tablespoon of sugar or honey, if using dry Marsala wine
Chopped parsley for garnish

Directions:
1) Cut the chicken breasts into roughly two-inch chunks. Coat the chicken with salt, pepper, and herbs to taste.

2) In a warmed saucepan, melt 2 tablespoons of oil or butter over medium heat. Place chicken in the pan and lightly brown both sides (about 3 minutes per side). Press down on the meat with your spatula/utensils to check and maintain the tenderness of the meat throughout the browning process.

3) Add mushroom and 1 tablespoon of oil or butter; cook with the chicken. When mushrooms soften, splash in Marsala wine. Add 1 cup of water. Simmer until water reduces (about 5 minutes). Add salt to taste if needed.

Sprinkle with chopped parsley. Enjoy!

Extra, extra!
CHEAP CHICKEN!
(It's tangentially related, okay?!)

So I love this play by prose goddess Maria Gabriele. It's called "Cheap Chicken" but really, nothing will prepare you for the journey it takes you on. Listen here!

I'm out!

Love,
Joanne